Thistled Love
by Lilac Lenalee
Summary: Oakheart and Bluestar both reminisce about what could have been, if it wasn't for one ambitious ThunderClan cat...
1. Part 1

Waiting. Oakheart was always waiting. Patiently, with the unmoving calmness of a crystallized pool, he would wait. He could watch time slip by in the watery tongues of the river, never sympathizing with him for a moment. Yet somehow, disguised cunningly in the leafy mask that waited with all the mannerisms of a medicine cat for the same thing as him, the mesmerizing figure he so desperately willed to tiptoe into the open, with the grace of the moon in her paws, almost never seemed to stray towards his isolated sanctuary. Almost never.

Oakheart watched his breath pounce across the water's defenseless surface, sending it tumbling away in victimized wings of sparkle. As it shimmered to a halt, taking one last shudder of air before stilling to a balance, Oakheart felt his heart twist with agony. The deep blue water, a rope of liquid sapphire reflecting the sun's rays like a powerful shield, was so much like her. Like her fur, a blue façade of bristling defiance whenever their eyes met. Like her temper, coated in a hostility as mutinous as a storm yet as honey coated as a china blue sky at the crack of dawn. And of course, like her eyes, sparkling azure discs that floated in an unhidable truth, like lilypads poised atop a midnight blue puddle. Oh, how he yearned to see his beloved Bluefur. And he knew she did too.

She needed him, more then ever now. The tiny balls of fur growing inside her were their creation, their naïve masterpiece of nature. The most beautiful thing in the world yet also the most disastrous. He should be there right now, serving Bluefur the most succulent, mouth-watering piece of fresh-kill he could find. He should be there right now, ensuring with all the anxiety of an expectant father that his mate was as snug in her nest as a dormouse. He should be there now, shredding Bluefur's nerves with gentle words, alleviating her pain with affectionate nuzzles, protecting her and their unborn kits with all the ferocity of LionClan. But here he was, idling along the shore of the river, waiting. As to what only StarClan knew, but still, he was waiting.

Absently Oakheart wondered what the cats in her Clan thought. Was there a certain tom they all assumed was the father? Did he take Bluefur the nourishment she needed every day, extra moss every day, protect her every day, from the elements of the forest? An icy jolt of jealousy shot down his spine, making his fox colored fur straighten in furious shock. An image of Bluefur's adamant face wavered in his mind, reassuring him till he sat motionless again. Oakheart rested his head on his paws, their fur like tiny pillows of down against his chin. His love burned with such passionate rage he could feel his limbs start to tremble in defiance and his mind whirl in a cyclone of precious memories. His muscles seemed to be urging him to stand up, pressuring him to leap across the river and bolt into the ThunderClan camp with all the courage of a battle patrol, but he knew that would be pointless. The hole of sadness, teetering perilously on the brink of depression, blanketed him now in a suffocating calmness. He would do anything for Bluefur. He'd parade right into WindClan territory and topple off the edge of the gorge for her. And for their dear kits, the invisible jewels he held so sacred, too.

Nothing would ever be the same. Needle sharp teeth bit this poisonous fact into him until he wanted to howl for mercy. He'd beg StarClan on all fours if he could. He'd give the moon to Bluefur, to light her path always and protect her whenever she felt loneliness as bitter as he did. But love did not seem to be something that allied with Oakheart, or his beloved Bluefur. It did not offer any comfort or bargain. But that would never stop Oakheart from loving Bluefur with all the gravity of the seasons combined. Or their kits.

"Be strong, my love," he whispered to nothing in particular, crinkly shoots of dying grass physically echoing his words with a shake. "And know that I'll always be here for you, waiting."


	2. Part 2

Waiting. The screen of liquid peace, so masterfully tranquil during times of such empty hope, was as still as Redtail's fragile, uncirculating body, waiting feebly for StarClan's starry escort. Just as Bluestar had left it. The grief was inundating, turning her blood to a viscous muck that made homeostatic actions as difficult as feeling the breath from a dead friend. The fire that was burning inside Bluestar, licking at her intuition till it burned with an authoritative ferocity, had now been slain into powdery ash, arresting any air that tried to confiscate its dusty contents in an unnoticeable fashion. But Bluestar had grown more than acquainted with this feeling.

With an involuntary shudder, as if her body was trying to purge stinging bile, Bluestar lifted her head and gazed endlessly at the shore bathed in RiverClan aroma. The cattails seemed to sigh with relief at the weight that was not driving them into the earth anymore, shivering as they radiated an awkward, uncustomary freedom. He would always wait there. Bluestar knew, despite never having stepped paw there for incalculable seasons , that Oakheart had always waited there for her with an indescribable devotion.

Suddenly his seemingly pointless, kit-like waiting games seemed like perfectly normal activities, and understanding dawned on Bluestar like the most brilliant sunrise; love was an obsession. All those years it had grappled Bluestar's body with invisible spasms of craving, sent her mind diving airlessly into a chamber of segregation, sucked at her very soul until she felt nothing had been left of it. The prophetic flame was the only thing propelling her on in life, heating her limbs with the adrenal zeal she needed in order to continue leading her Clan. But without that filament of soul tangoing madly within her, grief was as devouring as lethal ambition.

Bluestar had grieved openly for Redtail, her audacious, honorable deputy. She was as choked with misery as any of her Clanmates were when the news had been unexpectedly proclaimed. But she had grieved for him long enough. Her liquefied reflection, dimpled gently by the wind's cool breath, housed all the vulnerability it could produce at such a pitiful state. Oakheart deserved her precious time. He had earned it, despite his cocky nature and infuriating good looks. Now, it was time Bluestar pay him back for all he had sacrificed. At least for a few bittersweet moments.

The movement did not come easily. Bluestar had to force her body to sit atop the water sprinkled pebbles, cynically remind it that what it feared was now dead and gone, before she could rest in a rather uncomfortable position of mourning. No one would catch them now. She felt a revitalizing chill claw at her belly, refreshing after being touched so obsessively by death, and she stretched her paws out until they brushed the river's nodding surface. She tried to ignore the dam of memories that had been torn open by her susceptibility, but after so many moons of denying them their freedom she ended up letting them pool calmingly within her mind. Bluestar let her nose bury deep inside the unoccupied space between her forepaws, and felt her body ripple lightly with grief. It would take over fully soon if she didn't put a stop to it, but she remained in her still, miserable state, bracing herself readily to once again fight the battle between happiness and heartache.

Suddenly Bluestar began to purr. She did not purr out of delighted bliss, or due to any kind of relaxing pleasure throbbing through her veins. She purred out of cold, lonely misery. The soothing vibrations comforted her emotionally wrought body, brought her back a pawstep from submerging fully into the depths of shadowy gloom. But it couldn't stop her heart from weeping obsessively over Oakheart's death. It wept with a hollow thump, tired and broken from being forced to endure so much mourning.

Gently, with the kind of effort used after getting up from a labored rest, Bluestar lifted her head towards Silverpelt, their winking quilt of glitter shining on her with a rare kind of sympathy. Somewhere high up there, basking within the royal ranks of the greatest warriors, was Oakheart. Bluestar knew with a burning knowledge that he was looking down at her, reveling greedily in the fact that his waiting had finally been rewarded.

"May StarClan be good to you, my beloved," the words fell from Bluestar's mouth like dying stars, lightly weighed down by ages of crippling love. "And may you sit proudly amongst our fellow warriors until I come to join you, waiting."


End file.
